Hidden In Plain Sight.
Chapter Ten.
After Christopher Steele had left his office and started his car, he was about to select "Drive" when he suddenly paused in thought. Switching off the engine, he left the gear lever in 'Park' and sat silently for a moment.
He had intended to post his newly compiled note immediately but realised the last Royal Mail collection would have been at five o'clock and he'd missed it. Thus, the envelope wouldn't start its journey back to his office until the next day and not arrive until Wednesday morning at the earliest.
Perhaps, in that case, he ought to stay within the same time frame as the original, because any delay may panic the kidnappers.
Having already sealed the envelope, he ripped it open, threw it back on the passenger seat, re-started the car and drove directly to Arthur's mansion. Feigning anger, he marched into the kitchen and slapped it onto a worktop.
"This arrived by courier an hour ago!" he lied, glaring at Josh as if it were his fault. "And I am going public with it - tonight!"
Josh picked it up, slid the A4 sized piece of paper out and studied it.
'5 MILLION POUNDS AND YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER WILL BE RETURNED TO YOU UNHARMED. AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION'
"What do you mean, you're going public with this?" he asked, looking up at him, incredulous. "What good will that do?"
"It will flush out the kidnappers!" shouted Steele, angrily. "It will bring the worlds attention to my missing granddaughter! The kidnappers will have to give her up!"
"What!?" exclaimed Josh, hardly able to believe his ears. Before he could say anymore, Steele was off again.
"I'm about to contact the national daily newspapers." he said. "And the TV companies. They will then send camera crews and reporters here for interviews within the hour!"
"Er - no, that's not going to happen!" replied Josh, glaring at Steele. "It will sign your granddaughters death warrant!"
"Of course it won't you stupid policeman!" snarled Steel, glaring back. "It will frighten the kidnappers off. They won't dare harm my Hilda!"
'For Christ's sake!' thought Josh. 'The bloody man's a certified fruitcake!'
At that point, having heard the raised voices, Georgina, Arthur and Madeleine rushed into the kitchen.
"What's happened!?" cried Georgina and seeing the sheet of paper in Josh's hand, reached out for it. Josh handed it over.
"Oh my God!" she said as she read the message, Arthur then snatching it from her.
"We must pay it!" he said upon reading it, his hand trembling with abject terror.
"No we must not!" answered Steele, glaring at the sheet of paper in Arthurs shaking hand. "I'm going to splash that message across the world!"
Now it was the turn of other three to stare disbelievingly at him.
"You're not serious, surely father!" shouted Arthur. "The kidnappers will have nothing to lose and kill Hilda!"
"Of course they won't you silly boy!" replied Steele. "They will want to save their own scrawny necks and, likely as not, be tripping over themselves to get away!"
Madeleine sat down heavily on a chair and put her head in her hands, then looked up at her husband with tears welling in her eyes.
"Christopher, have you lost your mind? How could you possibly believe that!" she said, her watering eyes wide with disbelief and confusion at her husbands words. "What, in God's name, are you thinking? The kidnappers may well want to flee, but there would be nothing stopping them murdering Hilda before they left."
"They won't want to be hunted for murder, Madeleine." answered Steele. "Right now, if caught, they'd go to jail for kidnap and ransom, nothing more. They'll want to keep it that way."
There was some sort of perverse logic in what he was saying, but Josh was having none of it.
"And what if you're wrong!" he said. "What will this - this ridiculous standoff - achieve, Mr Steele?"
"Nothing!" interjected Arthur and with a flourish, ripped the note into pieces and let them fall to the floor.
"Du dummer dummkopf!" shouted Steele, then whipped the back of his hand across Arthurs cheek, almost knocking him of his feet. Arthur regained his balance and stared at his father in shock. With tears beginning to fill his eyes in humiliation, he turned on his heel, strode out of the kitchen to the front door, slamming it shut. Moments later, they heard his car scrabbling for grip as he accelerated up to the gates, a momentary pause as they swung open, then the screeching of tortured tyres on tarmac as he screamed off up the road.
In the silence that followed, Madeleine reached for Georgina's hand and, with a withering, contemptuous glare at her husband, led her away and into the lounge, wiping tears that began to fall from her eyes as she went.
Josh stared disdainfully at Steele, taking a few seconds to neutralise his tone of voice.
"I suggest we wait until the kidnappers make contact again. They aren't expecting a reply to that note, as it was designed to set things up." he said, calmly, his eyes still transfixed on Steele awaiting a response.
Steele remained silent.
"Do you know which courier company delivered it?" asked Josh, determined to prise a response out of him. "They will probably have a record of who instructed them."
"No, I didn't ask." replied Steele, flatly and before Josh could say anymore, marched out of the house.
Josh stared after him. Something didn't fit with all of this, but he couldn't put a finger on it. It was like having a name on the tip of his tongue but, try as he might, it just wouldn't drop into place.
Finding a dustpan and brush, he carefully swept up the torn pieces of paper and slid them into a plastic, see through bag he kept folded up in his pocket.
Then he called Chas.
Harry was busy tucking Alex into bed before reading her a story when she heard the shrill of the telephone downstairs, albeit distant in the vast house. After Alex had finally drifted off into sleep, Billy the Hippo wrapped up in her arms, Harry kissed her forehead and quietly left the room.
As she stepped from the sweeping staircase into the large, square hall she saw Dempsey dropping the telephone receiver onto its cradle.
"Who was that?" she asked as she slipped her arm through his.
"Chas." he replied. "Seems things have been kickin' off at Steele's place."
"What things?" she asked.
Dempsey related the course of events, as reported to Chas from Josh.
"So Steele receives this ransom note and wants to publicise it!?" asked Harry, incredulous. "And he thinks that by doing so, it will expose Hilda's kidnappers!?"
"Yeah - in a nutshell." confirms Dempsey. "Totally blind to the fact that it'd probably spell the end of her."
"Dear God, what's the matter with him!?" exclaimed Harry.
"He don' seem to be playin' with a full deck, sugar." replied Dempsey, tapping the side of his head.
"No, he doesn't." chuckled Harry, nervously. "But, it does look as though Hilda's kidnapping is about extracting a ransom after all."
"You think!?" replied Dempsey, raising his eyebrows at her.
"Why? Don't you?" asked Harry, a puzzled look on her face.
"Nah! I don't." said Dempsey. "An' neither does Josh. Up until now, Steele hasn't altogether acted as a worried grandfather would, but he was close to wild panic earlier when Arthur Steele grabbed the note and ripped it up. I tell ya, honey, my nose is twitchin' big time now."
"Well, we both know what that means!" said Harry, having had plenty of proof in the past that when Dempsey's nose starts to twitch, he's usually on a hunch that turns out to be highly accurate. " And I hope Josh has collected all the pieces of that note up."
"Yeah he has. He'll give 'em to forensics. Mebbee they can dig out some fingerprints or even DNA." replied Dempsey.
"Hmmm, that won't be easy." said Harry, then focussing on the note again. "So if you don't believe the ransom demand is genuine, what's the point of it?"
"A smoke screen, honey." replied Dempsey.
"A smoke screen?" queried Harry, not sure what he was getting at.
"Yeah, ya know. Something that covers up what's really goin' on."
"Yes! I do know what a smoke screen is Dempsey!" snapped Harry, raising her eyes to the heavens. "But I don't know why you think this note qualifies."
"Well think 'bout it for a sec, tiger." said Dempsey, oblivious to her reaction. "Not losing sight of who we think Steele really is and stickin' with the suspicion Hilda's kidnappin' is all 'bout exposin' him, mebbee he has had a note. An' mebbee that note said somethin' different?"
Harry's eyes widened, her thoughts syncing immediately with Dempsey's.
"Oh my God, yes." she muttered. "If the note actually said something like 'we know who you really are' then he's going to be in a flat spin, isn't he! It fits exactly with what Freddy suggested. Hilda's kidnappers are just out to bring Steele to justice."
"On the nose, honey!" smiled Dempsey. "An' don' ya think it kinda odd that it's Steele senior who's been contacted? That ain't normal. In a case like this, it's the parents who get the first call."
"Yes, you're right, Dempsey, it isn't normal." agreed Harry, her mind now working overtime. "So, if he actually got a note threatening to expose him as an SS war criminal, the last thing he'd want is for that to be public knowledge."
"Yeah, so he comes up with an alternative." said Dempsey, nodding and breaking into a grin. "A smoke screen."
Harry shot him one of her looks that had 'I might be amused but you shan't know it in a million years!' written all over it.
"Okay." she said, instead. "So what do we do now? Can we prove all this?"
"Unless forensics come up with somethin', no we can't." replied Dempsey. "But at least it gives us a measure of the way that devious mother thinks. We'll just have to keep on diggin' until we find that connection between whoever's got Hilda and how they're linked to Steele."
"Time is running out, though, Dempsey." said Harry, her features contorted with worry. She rested her head on his shoulder as they slowly strolled towards the study to rejoin Freddy and Raif.
"If we're right and Steele has already had a note threatening to tell the world who he really is and which he's ignoring, I dread to think what might become of Hilda when her kidnappers realise they've drawn a blank." she murmured, quietly. " And God knows what that little girl is having to endure."
"Yeah, I know." replied Dempsey, leaning gently into her in response. "If ever we needed a goddamn break, it's now, honey."
Dolly Jenkins lived alone with her cat, Pudding, in a two bedroom, high rise flat in Pimlico. Pudding, a seven year old black moggy with a large white patch on his chest, another on the tip of his tail, white paws, big green eyes and the pinkest of noses, got his name from being very lazy and very fat, never venturing outside and spending his days either curled up on a chair or sitting on a window sill, half the time gazing at nothing in particular, other times appearing alert to the odd bird that alighted outside on the walkway handrail.
At night he would lie stretched out at the foot of Dolly's bed, purring loudly, occasionally stirring himself to stroll casually to his tray to do his toilet, stopping to munch on whatever Dolly might have dropped into his eating bowl, or sip on some water.
Dolly was a widower, her husband, Frank, having died from lung cancer several years previously and their two children, a boy and a girl, having married and moved to different parts of the country. Nevertheless, they remained in constant touch, visited at times during the year and always included her at Christmas, Billy and Aud, her neighbours, charged with keeping a watchful eye on Pudding for the two days Dolly was away.
After she'd arrived home, fed herself and Pudding, she settled down at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of tea and emptied the pieces of paper from her handbag onto the top. Within the hour, it's fragmented message was clear and Dolly just stared at it with disbelief. Very carefully, she used strips of Sellotape to bind it all together then stared at it again, wondering what on earth to do next.
She rang her daughter.
"Mavis? it's me." she said.
"Oh 'ello Mum." said Mavis. "You's alright? Wasn't expectin' ta 'ear from ya this evenin'."
Dolly paused for a moment, then launched into what she'd found.
"So, 'ang on a mo Mum." said Mavis, when her mother a stopped for breath. "You's sayin' you got this scrunched up piece of paper an' it says sumfink 'bout a German an' kidnappin' an' the like?"
"It weren't scrunched up Mave." replied Dolly. "It were all torn ta pieces. I've jus' stuck it all back togevver."
"Read it me agin, Mum." said Mavis.
Dolly looked down again at the note, drew in a deep breath and spoke. "You are a Nazi war criminal. Go public and turn yourself in. I have Hilda. Disobey me and she will die."
"Bloody 'ell Mum!" exclaimed Mavis. "You's really copped sumfink there, ain't ya. Better get it ta the fuzz a bit lively, I'd say."
"They'll be closed up now." replied Dolly.
"Well, I'd ring 999 then, Mum." suggested Mavis. "I don' fink ya should waste any time wiv it. Sounds bleedin' serious ta me."
"I can't believe it, Mavis." wailed Dolly. "I mean, I found this in Mr Steele's waste paper bin, for God's sake! 'E must be who it were meant for, which means 'e's a bloody Nazi! If 'e finds out it were me who gave it ta the coppers, there's no tellin' what he might do. I'm frightened Mave, really frightened."
"Look Mum. Calm yerself. Ring the coppers, 'and over that note then pack a bag in the mornin' an' come up ta stay 'ere for a few days." instructed Mavis. "I'll ring ya boss an' tell 'im you's sick. Nuffink's gonna 'appen straight away. There's plenny of time, Mum."
"Okay, okay." replied Dolly, her mind whirring, thinking out loud. "I'll 'ave ta get Pud seen to, p'raps Maureen a few doors up'll pop in an' feed 'im. Billy and Aud are away. Alright, Mave, I'll get on wiv it an' ring ya back."
"Alright Mum." said Mavis. "Look, I'll call the railways an' get an 'andle on what trains are runnin' up' ere ta Leeds from London, okay? Nah, take a deep breff an' call them coppers. Talk ta ya later."
They disconnected their call and while Mavis got in touch with British Rail, Dolly rang 999, asking for the police, then explaining what she had discovered. The operator took her name and address and told her someone would be calling within the hour to collect the note and take more details. She then called on her friend Maureen, who was more than happy to keep Pudding in food and water whilst Dolly was away.
Forty minutes later there came a knock at her door. A police constable stood there, showed her his ID and stepped into the flat. After another half an hour, he, his notebook complete with details, the demand and a signed statement as to how Dolly had come by it, were on their way back to his base, whereupon the Duty Sergeant checked the internal alerts on the station computer and put a call through to SI-10.
By ten o'clock that night, Dempsey and Harry, along with Freddy and Raif were staring at it, the latter two having been told of the earlier suspicion that the ransom note was a fake.
"So this was found by accident in Steele's waste paper bin, ripped to shreds." said Freddy.
"Yeah, a domestic, Dolly Jenkins." replied Dempsey. "Apparently one piece fell onto the floor while she was cleanin' up."
"She noticed it said 'criminal' and was curious enough to gather up all the bits and stick them back together." continued Harry. "You were right, Dempsey - or should I say your nose was right."
"His nose?" queried Raif, looking a little puzzled at them.
"Yes Raif." replied Harry, smiling. "When Dempsey's nose starts to twitch, it means he has a hunch and it usually turns out he's right. We told you we thought there was another note, didn't we? Well, there it is."
"The trouble is, it doesn't prove anything." said Freddy. "If you confront Steele with it, he'll simply say it's the work of a nutcase and demand you provide proof that it's allegation is true."
"What about peer pressure." suggested Harry. "What if we take this over to let his family see it and tell them how and where it was found."
"I can't see that changing much, darling." replied Freddy. "And it might muddy the waters unnecessarily. Just think if someone marched in here and accused me of being a war criminal - you'd want categoric proof wouldn't you."
"Yeah, he's right, princess." said Dempsey. "Once we got that connection we're lookin' for, this note will then come into play. It'll mean somethin' then."
Earlier that evening, Theresa Creighton had been on another planet. Having snorted a line of cocaine, she had lain back on the bed and sighed with heightened ecstasy as her two lovers, one male, the other female, set about pleasuring her.
Now alone, she was sitting on the edge of her sofa, staring at her TV and waiting for the ten o'clock news bulletins. A bottle of whisky sat on the coffee table in front of her and a recently replenished glass was clutched in one hand.
For the next half an hour, the bottle steadily emptied as she flicked between channels, becoming ever more aerated at the non emergence of any reference to Steele, until she finally leaned back into the soft cushions, her eyes ablaze.
She swallowed half a glass of whisky, grabbed the bottle and quickly topped up her tumbler.
"You bastard!" she snarled to herself, taking another slug. "You stinking Nazi bastard! Think you can ignore me, eh? Think I'm playing games do you?"
She set her glass of whisky down on the table, lurched to her feet and negotiated her way into the kitchen, pulling roughly at a draw displaying a range of tools - a hammer, screwdrivers, penknife and other assorted hardware. Scrabbling around, muttering obscenities to herself, she finally smiled when she found what she was searching for.
Taking the pliers in her hand she looked at them.
"So ignore me would you!" she scowled. "Well, maybe a piece of your precious grand brat arriving in another envelope will get your attention!"